


Soon Love Soon

by BrightWingsAndBroomsticks



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Because s15e20 Did Not Happen, Castiel is in the empty, Episode Fix-It: s15e19 Inherit the Earth, F/M, Family is Not Forgotten, M/M, Pining Dean Winchester, Post-Canon Fix-It, You won't change my mind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:55:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27689938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrightWingsAndBroomsticks/pseuds/BrightWingsAndBroomsticks
Summary: Dean was too stunned to ask for anything as Jack evaporated into everything. So stunned he didn't even think to ask for Cas to be released. And after everything, the very last thing he intends to do is leave Cas behind.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Comments: 10
Kudos: 103





	Soon Love Soon

The thing is, in the moment, he didn’t think to ask for anything. Cause...well, you know. Jack was making his own call - a really noble one at that - and Dean hadn’t seen it coming at all. The kid was more god than God ever was. His kid. His son, basically. He can admit that now. Because Dean’s in charge of his own world, finally - no Dad making demands, no Zachariah pulling strings, no Mark of Cain, no Michael, no Chuck. Just Dean. 

It’s freeing in more ways than he could have anticipated, that deep truth. All of a sudden, the responsibilities are personal and the outside forces are more like noise. Who cares what people like Dad would think of him in the context of the world now. All those people out there are lucky they get to be in the world at all again, and what they think of Dean’s needs and wants and desires is their own problem. They’re in charge of their own stories too. That is their power and also his own. _That_ is Jack’s world. 

So, yeah. Jack was his son. Still is, even if he’s not really corporeal or anything anymore. Who cares if raising a kid with two other dudes isn’t manly, or whatever - in the scheme of Dean Winchester’s existence, that is pretty far down on the list of weird. And family, as Bobby always maintained, ain’t about “normal”, with blood ties and predictability. It’s what you make it. 

And in that moment, it didn’t occur to Dean to ask his son to bring the missing member of the family back. He was too stunned that Jack wasn’t coming home to contemplate who else wouldn’t be there. 

When it eventually came to him, as they pulled into the bunker’s garage, he felt like he’d been punched in the face all over again. 

In the dark hours, as he tries to fall asleep, he wonders if Jack will act on his own. Castiel was his father more than anyone, after all. Is he, even now, pulling back the curtain to free Cas from the Empty? He wouldn’t just leave him there, would he? After everything? “Hands off” is one thing, but allowing the one who fought hardest for your life to drown in eternal nothingness is a little extreme. Right?

He wonders for a long time where Jack will draw this line. 

And then, after a fashion, he prays. 

“Listen,” he whispers into his empty bedroom. “Jack, I get what you said, I do. And I’m proud as hell, honestly. You’re here and there and everywhere, and humanity doesn’t have to beg to have you with us. That’s how it always shoulda been, if you ask me. 

“But, well. Just ‘cause we don’t _have_ to pray to you doesn’t mean we can’t. Or that we won’t. And I am. Now. Clearly. ‘Cause…”

Dean falters for a moment. He’s spent years trying not to put his own shit on Jack’s conscience. On anyone’s, really. But the kid is a fucking god now. And if the past twenty four hours have taught Dean anything, it’s that Jack can handle the tough stuff with grace and wisdom. Time to let him take this knowledge on. 

“I, uh… I didn’t really fill you guys in on everything. When Cas got taken. It was…” Jesus, he still can’t figure out how to talk about it. What a mess. “Okay, I’ll square with you, Jack. I’ve loved Cas for years. Like, chick flick style head-over-heels bumbling around nervous in love with him. For over a decade, probably. And I kept it to myself because I’m a coward, and because I thought it was pointless. But I was wrong. He was right there with me, and I made him think I didn’t care. He told me in the last moments of his life, and then he fucking died thinking I didn’t give a shit. Hell, he probably died thinking I was embarrassed, or ashamed of him, or angry. It’s been eating me up for weeks.”

It’s weighty, this admission, even if there’s a 50/50 chance he’s just talking into the dark. But it’s out, now. It’s done. 

“This isn’t really about me, though. I don’t want it to be, anyway. What I hate most of all is the thought of Cas stuck in that giant shitty void for all eternity thinking none of us really cared about him, you know? I thought he knew different, but now… I’m worried we never let him know. I’m worried he had no clue how loved he was, how important in a personal, visceral way. I’m worried he thinks he never really mattered. 

“So, I’m asking you. Not to stroke your ego or anything, and not to negate the wonderful choice you made today. Just, if there’s any way to get him out of that shitty place, to free him like we’re free now, to let him have at least that much. Let him retire back to heaven or whatever you think is right. But please, _please_ Jack. Don’t leave him in that place.” 

He’s shaking. He might be crying. He’s never been less sure that his words are being heard, and that includes both times he was in Purgatory. The weight of being truly free sinks down. 

But he takes a page out of Castiel’s book. He chooses to believe. 

“Thanks, Jack. I hope wherever you are...or _how_ ever you are, it’s good there. Comfortable. Fulfilling. All of it. You’re a good one, kid. The best.” He knows he’s crying now, but he figures Jack won’t mind. “Anyway. Just, thanks.” 

And on that supremely inadequate final note, he rolls onto his side to let the tears soothe his worry to sleep. 

~~~

The alarm that wakes him the next morning is not the alarm he set. Sure, it’s at the right time, but it’s not beeping. It’s music. And it’s not the usual classic rock station. It sounds a little like Enya, though he doesn’t think it actually is. 

It’s incongruous and strange, but somehow it isn’t ominous. Dean wonders if it is a message. Or perhaps he just hopes it is. 

Because the lead singer’s voice comes back time and time again to the same word: 

Soon. 

~~~

Dean doesn’t tell Sam about any of it. They settle into a life without an urgent threat, enjoying the bunker and the freedom and the world a little bit more. And each day, they pick a member of their extended family network, and try to determine if they came back when humanity was restored, or if they simply moved on. 

It’s energizing in a soft way - not the adrenaline and creeping panic of a hunt or an apocalypse, but a focused task to help aim their days, with occasional elation at the end of the search. Because some of them are back, somewhere, living lives, and it warms Dean’s heart to know that while he and Sam are alone in the bunker, they are not alone in the world. 

They don’t discuss Castiel, though. Because that deal was permanent. And the hope is too addictive to ruin with talk of lost causes. 

~~~

After a week and a half, Dean finally smacks his brother upside the head and tells him to go see his damn girlfriend in person, already. Eileen, saint that she is, hasn’t gotten angry with Sam yet over the fact that they’ve known where she is since the day after Jack walked off into the sunset without making any effort to visit. But Dean is more than happy to get angry on her behalf. 

“Dude, get your shit together. Girl’s been through more than enough. Don’t make her wait forever.”

Sam just surveys him for a second. “Okay, let’s go.” 

Dean chokes on his soda. “What, me? You want to bring me on your date??”

Ever the shithead little brother, Sam just rolls his eyes. “No, not particularly, but let’s make a trip of it.” When Dean just goggles, he pulls a face. “Come on, Dean, when’s the last time we went on a road trip for a fun reason? Let’s drive out there and have a vacation. Stay for a while. Relax.”

It’s a pretty foreign concept, the Winchesters just going somewhere for fun without having any kind of underlying motive. But it sounds kinda nice, for once. Dean loves his home here, even if it is a drafty basement, but it might be nice to get out for a bit. See if some time away will clear out the two voices that still haunt the empty halls. 

“Yeah, alright, sure,” he says, and has the pleasure of watching surprise creep across his brother’s face. Looks like Sam was settling in for an argument. But hey - new world, new Dean, right? Or, same Dean with a new outlook, maybe. 

“What?” he asks just to rile Sam up. 

“Nothing,” Sam rushes to reply, eyes wide. He heads for the door with a little spring in his step. “I’ll go pack.” 

Shaking his head with a smirk, Dean gets up to follow. “Okay, lover boy. Let’s aim to head out by noon.”

~~~

They meet up with Eileen in a park. It’s an absolutely fantastic day, with sunlight streaming down, all clouds departed, an endless stream of crystalline blue. When Eileen spots Baby pulling into the lot next to the park, she starts running, and she crashes into Sam so hard she knocks the whole million feet of him clean back onto the grass. He doesn’t seem to mind. He’s on the ground with the girl of his dreams on top of him, kissing him, surrounded by blooming things and vaguely scandalized strangers. It’s like heaven on Earth. 

It brings Dean an unexpected joy, to witness this scene. His little brother has found this unbelievable girl, brave and strong and altogether awesome, and now he gets to have her. Better yet, he can have her without giving the rest of his family up. She knows the life - she’s lived it herself. If they decide to keep hunting, now on their own terms, they don’t have to hide anything from her. And if they decide to hang it up and try something new, she’ll be part of that decision, too. What a world. 

Dean’s brave enough to admit to himself how nervous he was when Sam brought up possible futures on the drive here. And honest enough to admit how relieved he was that Sam was including him in the contours of the various options. It feels different this time, and not just because Chuck is absent. This isn’t Sam finding a life with Jess or Amelia or even Sarah and leaving Dean behind. The discussion Sam wanted to have was about what they could do next together - not necessarily living together and breathing all the same air and doing all the same things with their lives, but together in the way other families stay together. They could move to the same town somewhere, maybe share a house while they get settled into general life or maybe not. They could stay at the bunker, instead, while they build something new, and then branch out on their own paths later. They could look at regular jobs that actually excite them, carve out little corners of the universe for themselves where they can be regular guys, but not have to blend in to stay safe. They could say goodbye to credit card scams for good and start off fresh, sell some of the antiques from the bunker and make themselves money, and go honest from here on out. They have so many options, to hear Sam tell it, and they can decide what to try as a group now - Sam, Dean, and Eileen. They can make those decisions without having to sacrifice each other or anyone else. They can find ways to be there for each other without holding each other back. 

This. This is what they fought so hard for every time, really. Free will and family: both, not one over the other. 

So, as Dean stands there in the sun, he finally gets to watch his brother laugh happily with his girlfriend without dread gnawing at his insides. It feels damn good. 

“Beautiful,” he mutters to himself, as Eileen finally releases Sam so they can move to a nearby bench. 

“Yes it is,” says a voice behind Dean. 

For a long few seconds, Dean stands absolutely still, sure he must be hallucinating. His brain is filling in the moment with the one and only thing that could make it even better, surely. That’s the only explanation that makes any senses. 

Then the shadow of another body moves up next to his own. 

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel says. 

True to form, he’s standing very close. Dean can feel the heat of his body - just slightly more than a human would give off, but not uncomfortable. He’s really there. Dean can only stare. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Cas says, misreading Dean’s reaction entirely. “Jack freed me just after he left you two, and I’ve been helping him fix Heaven. He insisted I come down to tell you that I was no longer in the Empty, and I tried to explain that it was a poor choice, but…”

There’s a lot to unpack, there, not least finding out what “fix Heaven” means. But Castiel is uncomfortable and embarrassed and Dean will not have it. He is here and he is loved and he needs to know. 

First, Dean pulls him into a huge hug. He holds it tight, even though Cas has regressed to his wooden soldier act within Dean’s arms. Then he realizes he hasn’t even spoken yet, so he whispers, “Heya, Cas.” Next, he pulls back, looks the angel over to make sure he’s in one piece, and punches him lightly on the arm. 

Cas, the self-deprecating little weirdo, just looks down in shame. 

“That,” Dean tells him, leaning down to catch the gaze of those fathomless eyes, “was for leaving without letting me fucking talk.” 

Cas blinks, bewildered, but ultimately just apologizes again. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Dean admonishes. 

Then he kisses Cas full on the mouth. 

When Dean leans back, just enough but still blissfully close, he has the distinct pleasure of studying whatever it is Cas is doing with his face in response to the surprise romantic assault. The expression is really quite something - a hilarious mix of confusion, panic, and ascendant bliss. Dean 

“Look, I know I don’t do feelings right, but you could have asked. All that shit about ‘not being able to have me’? You’ve had me for years, Cas.”

“I…” Cas has rarely looked more baffled, and it makes Dean’s heart swell to see the wonder blooming in the wake of his words. “What?” 

“I fucking love you, is what I’m saying,” Dean continues. “It honestly never occurred to me that you could feel the same way. Hell, I still don’t get why you do. What does a celestial wavelength even see in a washed up-” 

He doesn’t get to finish his thought, mercifully, because Castiel, Angel of the Lord, is suddenly kissing him quite passionately. 

After a few minutes, they are interrupted by loud whooping from a certain park bench a few yards away. If there weren’t kids running around, Dean would flip Sam and Eileen the bird. But there are, so he just makes a dismissive sort of gesture, unable to stop smiling, and takes Castiel’s hand. 

“Come on, Angel,” he says, beckoning the love of his weird, long, messed up life toward the bank of the nearby river. “Let’s go for a walk.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> For the record, Dean was right: the alarm song is not Enya, it is Vienna Teng, and the song has the same title as this story. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you all like this ending, since we all deserved better than the one we got. (Especially Dean.)


End file.
